Small Bump
by GryffindorCriss
Summary: He wanted to reach out and hold her, to comfort her and assure her it wasn't her fault – but the last thing she probably wanted was to be touched, he thought to himself, to be told such a useless thing. (OR: A tragedy in the Kowalski family)


**This comes off of my Newtina fic, "Lay Your Body Down, Rock Your Tears Away" – the miscarriage is given a glancing mention in that fic as Jacob/Queenie are only present in one section. However, I felt like it would only be right to write this up as a fic because it _is_ a big thing…and I kind of threw a curveball when I wrote that in. Also, one of the sections in this fic is taken directly from that fic (i.e. the Tina/Queenie conversation in the kitchen)**

 **Just a reminder of the Kowalski children (thus far):**

 **Tobias "Toby" – October 1929 (7, nearly 8)  
Daisy – April 1931 (6)  
Abel and Ruth (twins) – November 1933 (3, nearly 4)**

 **WARNING: This fic deals with the sensitive topic of miscarriage. Usually I wouldn't spoil a fic's plot like that, but it's a very awful thing and I don't want to trigger anyone unnecessarily.**

 **If that upsets you or anything, then please, you're not obligated to read it. The actual thing itself isn't TOO explicit, I hope, but it IS there and so is the aftermath containing grieving, so…PLEASE don't read if you don't want to. I won't be offended.**

 **In case it's not obvious, ANGST. ANGST AND A SLIGHT BIT OF SMUT AT THE END (I'M SORRY)**

* * *

The sound of the children laughing and playing outside seemed so far away – like it was coming from a grainy radio, even from inside the bathroom with the windows open. It was as if it were in another _world_ , a different planet perhaps, and not just in the street outside.

The world she _was_ in seemed to spin as she looked at the red spots in her underwear.

Queenie had had stomach cramps all morning, and while she _had_ been somewhat concerned she had passed it off as lingering morning sickness – that was all it could have been, she reasoned. It would come to pass, as all bouts of morning sickness did. It was only once the children had finished breakfast and ran outside to play that she had gone to the bathroom and seen _this_ – and she had been so shell-shocked that she couldn't move, couldn't do anything.

 _Calm down…it's probably nothing_.

It was with a wince that she pushed herself up off of the toilet, shakily reaching to pull her underwear up and smoothing down her dress; some blood had dripped down the toilet, glistening spots, and she nearly vomited at the sight.

She needed to find a doctor immediately.

It seemed to take all of her energy just to flush the toilet, but Queenie knew she had no choice but to keep going; she would have to find Jacob and get him to either take her to a doctor or phone one. As for the children…well, Mrs Johnson next door had always been kind to the family, so perhaps she could watch them for a few hours.

With one arm curled around her abdomen, she made her way out of the bathroom and towards the kitchen: Jacob would either be there or in the street with their children. She was sure that she could feel something sticky in her underwear now, something _disgusting_ , but she pressed onwards desperately.

Thankfully, Jacob was still at the kitchen table reading the morning paper; the window was opened wide so that he could occasionally look out and make sure that the children were still outside playing safely. He looked up and grinned at the sight of her.

"Hey, I finished the washing-up for… You alright, Queenie?"

His expression quickly turned into one of concern – she was probably a mess, she thought to herself, sweating somewhat and nearly doubling over in pain.

"Jacob," She managed to choke out, and suddenly there were tears forming in her eyes. "I…I'm _bleeding_."

* * *

A doctor had been called to the apartment urgently, and it took a full half-an-hour for him to arrive; by this time, all four of the Kowalski children had realized something was amiss and retreated inside – though their father adamantly told them to stay in the front room to play. Ruth complained loudly at the thought of missing out on something interesting, stomping her foot while Abel started to suck his thumb, and it took Toby's gentle coaxing to get her to play with her dolls.

"What's wrong?" Daisy whispered to Toby once the twins were out of hearing range. "Is it Mama? Is she having the baby?"

"Don't know," Toby shrugged; he knew something wasn't _right_ , though he didn't know what, and despite being only seven he was still the oldest – it was his job to make sure his younger siblings (twins especially) behaved themselves in the meantime. "Come on, let's play – Ma and Pa will come and tell us soon."

* * *

Meanwhile, Jacob had taken to pacing in the hallway; the doctor had ushered Queenie into their bedroom, ordering him to stay outside and out of the way while he examined her properly. It was going to cost an absolute fortune, calling a doctor to the house – but it was necessary, an emergency, and money wasn't important in this case.

 _I hope she's okay – she's gotta be, right?_

After forty minutes, the doctor slipped out of the room; he looked rather grave as he approached Jacob, tightening his tie and frowning unpleasantly.

"Mr Kowalski? I'm afraid we weren't acquainted properly earlier," He said quietly. "Doctor Williams. I would say it's a pleasure to meet you but…well…"

Jacob didn't bother wasting times with pleasantries, instead taking a step forwards and looking at the doctor worriedly. "How is she, doc? Is she okay? And the baby, she's pregnant-"

"She _was_ pregnant," Doctor Williams corrected stiffly, and he lowered his gaze. "I'm dreadfully sorry, Mr Kowalski… I tried my best, but sometimes these things just happen."

"So…she's…"

"I'm afraid that your wife has lost the baby," The doctor continued morosely. " _She_ 'll be fine, so long as she rests in bed for the next few weeks, and once she's recovered then you may try again. I'm…I'm truly very sorry, Mr Kowalski. Really."

He couldn't speak; it was like a lump had blocked his throat and made him unable to make any noise, to _breathe_. He couldn't move either, his feet melded to the floor as his brain tried – _tried so hard_ – to process what he had been told.

"She wasn't very far along, by the looks of things, so I expect the bleeding will stop shortly; if it hasn't within the next twenty-four hours then don't hesitate to give me a call. Other than that, all I can recommend is plenty of bedrest and perhaps some pain medication for the cramps." He shrugged on his coat and picked up his hat from the hat stand by the door, giving the other man a sorrowful look. "Again, I'm sorry for you and your wife's loss."

And then the doctor was gone, leaving Jacob feeling completely and utterly _alone_.

* * *

His father had always been a typical masculine man, assertive and tough; he had not approved of his son's love of baking, nor of his close relationship with his grandmother – his words still rang in Jacob's head sometimes, like a ghostly echo.

" _Men do not bake, Jacob; that is a woman's job. I will not have my son prancing about in a silly apron in a bakery all day._ "

His father had also been the kind who believed emotions were a "woman's thing" – men who showed emotions were not truly _men_. However, he was sure his father had _never_ had to deal with anything quite like _this_ in his life.

He would later be ashamed to admit that he was actually _terrified_ as he pushed open the door to his and Queenie's bedroom; for one thing, he didn't know what he could _say_. His own heart was aching and heavy, the news still sinking in, and he didn't know what he could possibly say to his wife to make her feel better.

No. He couldn't make her feel better – nothing would make this better.

Queenie was curled up in bed when he entered, lying on her side and staring out of the window; she turned her head slightly at the sound of the door creaking, and her eyes were rimmed red. For a moment they just looked at each other, and it became obvious that there were _no_ words to possibly express this adequately.

Finally, she gave a sniff and turned away from him. "I'm _sorry_."

"Don't be," Jacob managed weakly, and he tenderly sat down on the opposite side of the bed; he didn't dare get too close to her, afraid that if tried touching her she might break.

"This is… _my fault_ …I …I lost our baby, Jacob. I _killed_ it."

He found himself shaking his head. "Nah, you didn't…don't you dare think that, because there's no way that's true…it's just…" He swallowed the lump in his throat, and it only seemed to swell. "It happens. I don't know why, but it does…"

But Queenie was shaking her head, and suddenly she was _sobbing_ brokenly into the pillow; it _hurt_ Jacob to see her like this, especially knowing there was little he could do to help. He wanted to reach out and hold her, to comfort her and assure her it wasn't her fault – but the last thing she probably wanted was to be touched, he thought to himself, to be told such a useless thing.

She let out a choke, rolling over onto her other side and reaching out. "No… Jacob, please… Come here… I need…"

He didn't hesitate now as he reached over and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into him; she pressed her face into his chest and continued to cry, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly.

"I'm…I'm _so sorry_ …"

"Don't, Queenie," He murmured weakly. " _Don't_ … You ain't got a thing to apologize for."

Jacob held her close as she continued to sob into him, closing his eyes to hide the fact that he was close to tears himself.

* * *

Toby knew something was wrong when there was no sign of their mother or father after two hours.

Ruth and Abel were both becoming cranky, having missed their naps to play, and Daisy was biting her lip anxiously as she kept casting her eyes over at the closed door. Toby, himself, was rather hungry and desperate for some lunch – but he was worried he would walk in on something awful if he attempted to find his parents.

"Bored, Toby!" Ruth announced with a whine, clutching at his jumper. "Want Mama!"

Toby took her hand and lead her over to where Daisy was sitting on the carpet; Abel followed behind, blinking tiredly. "I know. Come on, let's play."

"Don' wanna play," Ruth complained. "Wanna _sleep_."

Daisy reached out for the twins, and they came to her with no qualms. "Well…we can play Mamas and Papas," She informed them. "Toby will pretend to be Papa, and I will be your Mama – and you will be our babies."

"I wanna be Mama."

"We'll take turns," She promised, petting her younger sister's head. "Now, come on, babies; let me put you into bed for your naps."

Toby watched them, and he couldn't help but think that his sister was _far_ smarter than he had thought.

The twins didn't argue as Daisy helped them onto the couch; the two were so small that they easily curled up on the cushions together comfortably. She removed her cardigan and draped it over Ruth, and Toby willingly handed her his jumper to place over Abel, so that they wouldn't get too cold.

"Now _I'm_ going to be chilly," Daisy sighed miserably as she took a seat opposite the now-sleeping twins. "Why are Mama and Papa not down here? Is something wrong, Toby?"

"I don't know," He muttered, looking at the door to the hallway once more. "They can't be too much longer, I think."

Daisy was silent for a moment, looking down at her skirt thoughtfully. "Do you think Uncle Newt and Auntie Tina got our letters? Mama said she'd send them off with hers."

"I think so."

"Then why haven't they written back yet?"

Toby sighed. "I don't _know,_ Daisy. They're probably busy; Uncle Newt is a Magi-something, and Auntie Tina is an Auror – they'll write back when they can."

"Oh." She paused thoughtfully. "I wanna be an Auror when I'm older…that or a baker, like Papa."

It was only five minutes later that they heard footsteps; both of them were relieved when Jacob appeared, and Daisy clambered out of her seat to greet him enthusiastically.

"Papa! You can play now! Is Mama alright? Is Mama gonna play too?"

Toby was only slightly older, but he _knew_ that something was still very wrong; their father wasn't grinning like he usually did, and he looked _ill_ as he embraced Daisy.

"I…er… I can't play at the moment," He said carefully, and his voice was close to cracking. "See, Mama is…she's not very well."

Daisy stared up at him, eyes wide. "Not well? What's wrong with her? Can I see her?"

"Not at the minute, Princess. She needs to…to rest."

Toby frowned worriedly. "Is she gonna be okay, Pa?"

"Yeah, she will…I think she just needs some peace and quiet," Jacob answered weakly, and his eyes swivelled to look at where the twins were sleeping peacefully. "Alright… How about we take a trip to the bakery?"

"But it's Sunday," Daisy reminded him, looking confused as she studied him.

"I know, but…my treat."

She looked absolutely thrilled by this, immediately running out into the hall so that she could get her coat and hat; Toby simply gazed at his father and crossed his arms. "Pa… Is Ma really okay? What's the matter with her?"

Jacob forced a grim smile onto his face as he gently shook both of the twins awake; they stirred, rubbing their eyes and pouting. "Yeah, your Ma is…she's gonna be fine. Like I said, she's just a little sick – you ain't got nothing to worry about."

Their parents weren't the kind who lied to their children – occasionally they avoided telling them something, usually for a good reason, but they never lied.

Still, Toby couldn't help but feel that something was _dreadfully_ wrong.

* * *

Queenie had fallen asleep by the time they returned from the bakery, curled up underneath the blankets like a new-born kitten. Jacob decided not to wake her, instead making the children dinner himself before putting them to bed.

Thankfully the twins were still very tired after their afternoon trip to the bakery and allowed their father to tuck them in without too much fuss; Abel fell asleep immediately, and Ruth only tiredly asked for an extra kiss to help her sleep. The two older children were waiting for him in the other bedroom, dressed in their pyjamas and sitting up in bed.

Daisy reached out for him. "Papa, where's Mama? Want a goodnight kiss."

"Mama's sleeping, Princess," Jacob said softly, and he sat down on the bed next to her; she immediately attached herself to his side, throwing her arms around him and resting her head on his shoulder. "Alright…you guys ready to get some rest?"

Toby, gnawing his lip, gave a small nod; Daisy, however, shook her head. "Can you tell us a story, Papa? Mama usually sings to us, but…"

Being honest, he wasn't much in the mood for telling stories – but the kids needed sleep, and he didn't want Queenie to worry about them on top of everything else, so he reluctantly agreed. Once both Toby and Daisy were settled in their beds, he started recounting the story of how he and Newt had first met; it was one all of the children enjoyed hearing immensely, particularly when it came to the part about "Uncle Newt's magical beasties".

He had barely reached the part where he opened the case when he realized both of them were fast asleep.

It was still relatively early in the evening, but he was _exhausted_ by everything – he wanted to sleep it off, if possible, to escape from it for a few hours. With that in mind, Jacob quietly made his way back to the main bedroom and started unbuttoning his waistcoat.

It was only when he looked over at the bed – at his sleeping wife still curled up – that he faltered; he couldn't possibly get into bed next to her, he thought, she wouldn't want that…not so soon after what had happened… The very last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable or upset in any way.

There was nothing else for it.

With a sigh, Jacob finished changing into his nightclothes before reaching for his pillow; there would be a spare duvet in a linen cupboard, and he'd make do on the couch. It would be extremely uncomfortable, sure, but Queenie having space was more important than his own feelings.

 _Men are rocks,_ His father had said, _Men don't get emotional over these things – that's women._

No, he wouldn't allow his own feelings to get in the way – he had to be strong for her, he told himself later that night as he tossed and turned on the couch, had to be there in case she needed him.

It was unsurprising that he didn't sleep well that night.

* * *

The first thing Queenie noticed when she woke up was that she _ached_ all over; whether that was from the position she'd slept in or something else, she didn't know, but she felt _awful_. The next thing she registered was the smell of pancakes – that would be Jacob making breakfast, she thought, which meant that Toby and Daisy would be going to school soon.

Her heart sank at the thought of her children; they were more than likely confused and worried for her. A part of her suddenly longed to hold them in her arms again, to kiss their foreheads and smooth down their hair – she wanted to know that they were there and safe, even if the baby _wasn't_.

The doctor had recommended bedrest for at least a week, though he had informed her that it was likely she'd feel physically better within just a few days – _emotionally_ , of course, was an entirely different story. While she _did_ feel like curling up and just crying, another part of her felt as if she should perhaps get out of bed – if only for some food and a wash. She felt _disgusting_ , and she was well-aware that she had bled all over the sheets; she felt sick at the thought, bile bubbling up inside of her.

There was a quiet knock on the bedroom door before it opened; Jacob hesitantly took a step into the room, and he looked just about as awful as she felt. She was well-aware that he hadn't slept beside her that night, that he had dressed early that morning and left without saying a word, and she couldn't help but feel somewhat _hurt_ – it was almost as if he was avoiding her.

"I…I made breakfast," He told her, and his voice sounded hoarse. "Got the kids ready and everything – I'm gonna take Toby and Daisy to school, but I'm taking the day off."

Queenie looked up at him and heard him thinking of how he'd left Henry the shop-boy in charge of the bakery for the day; there were other employees who would come in and assist too. Her husband almost never took the day off from the bakery.

"You want anything to eat?"

"I'm fine," She told him quietly. "But…But I really need a _bath_."

 _The blood is probably everywhere_ , she thought miserably, _in the sheets, in my underwear, on my slip-_

"Oh. Of course. Well, I can take care of the kids," He assured her half-heartedly. "I'm bringing Ruth and Abel with me to the school, so…"

 _You can relax? No, that sounds wrong, she's not gonna relax._

"Alright," Queenie said, avoiding looking at him – more so he didn't have to say anything. "Sure."

She waited until she heard the door to the apartment close, the kids' voices disappearing as it did, before moving from the bed; she felt numb at the congealed stains in the sheets, hurriedly averting her eyes as she made her way to the bathroom down the hall. She _definitely_ needed to clean herself off, no matter how distressed she felt.

The water took a few minutes of running before warming up to a decent temperature, and once she was sure it was hot enough Queenie tasked herself with undressing; the knickers she had worn under her slip were stained, of course, as were certain parts of the slip itself. She screwed the garments up in a ball and threw it in the corner, sure she would _vomit_ if she stared at it for too long, and eyed herself in the mirror hanging over the sink.

What had once been a pregnant glow had long disappeared and now her face appeared grey and sunken, _old_ almost; her eyes – once so bright and happy – were red-rimmed and tired. Even worse was her _body_ ; she hadn't been very far along, only a couple of months or so, but seeing the stretch marks from the _other_ pregnancies, the puffy stomach that had remained, only served to remind her of what could have been, what she had lost.

The water was scalding when she got in, but she couldn't bring herself to care – she wanted _out_ of her skin, out of her body. The baby hadn't wanted to be in her body, she thought in anguish, even though she had done _everything_ right – she would have loved this baby just as much as she loved the children she already had, would have taken good care of them.

For a long time, Queenie simply sat in the tub, knees tucked against her chest as she stared into the water; it was only when she felt a slight chill starting to invade the air that she slowly began to wash herself off, scrubbing hard with the loofah and letting the water wash over her skin. For a moment she could be clean, could pretend nothing had happened.

But it _had_ happened, of course, and she couldn't just lie in the bathtub all day.

She clambered out a few minutes later, wrapping a soft towel around herself and drying her body off as the water drained away; she winced at the slight cramp in her muscles, at the clench in her abdomen, and quickly finished drying. She hadn't brought any clothes with her, and she really did _not_ want to put the ruined slip back on, so she carefully pulled Jacob's bathrobe off of the back of the door and wrapped it around herself. It was too large for her, of course, but warm and comforting nonetheless.

To her surprise, the sheets had been replaced and the bed freshly-made; it was only then she realized she could hear Ruth chattering away in the twins' bedroom, probably playing with her brother.

 _Jacob must have done it while I was bathing_.

Of course he had; he was always so thoughtful like that, so generous – he would have moved mountains for her if he could.

Queenie changed into new underwear before hesitating; she didn't feel much in the mood for a dainty slip, not after _that_ , and so she found herself instead opting for some loose pink pyjamas consisting of a shirt and bottoms. It was more her sister's style than hers, but in that moment it was more than enough.

She still felt _dreadful_ , of course – nothing would change that – but at least she was _clean_.

* * *

Abel had always been a quiet soul – in fact, he only ever spoke to his parents and older siblings occasionally, and never outside of their home; the only person who he spoke to on a regular basis was his twin sister, Ruth, and even then he was softly-spoken.

He had always felt a special connection with his mother thought; she was warm and soft, and even if he barely spoke to her he still _loved_ her dearly.

It was for this reason that he was worried for her; usually their mother would sing them lullabies at bedtime, would come to the bakery _with_ them – but the last time he had seen her had been a whole day ago, and all his father would say was that she was sick.

He knew better though.

Ruth had been invested playing with her dolls that early afternoon, lining them up and brushing their hair; seeing his chance, Abel quietly told her that he was going to the bathroom. She nodded and didn't pay him any heed – she wouldn't follow him _there_.

Instead of the bathroom, Abel found himself quietly sneaking to his mother and father's room; he knew his father didn't want them in there, that his mother needed to rest, but he _needed_ to see for himself that his mother was okay. There was still no sign of his father when he reached the door, so he silently reached for the handle and pushed the door open.

His mother – his beautiful mother – was sat up in bed against some pillows; she was staring out of the window, blonde curls rather untidy, all of the colour gone from her cheeks. It was only when the door creaked that she seemed to realize someone had entered the room, and she turned her head.

She seemed surprised. "Abel?"

Abel immediately clambered up onto the bed, throwing his arms around her. "Mama! Missed you!"

"Oh, honey…" She seemed to be close to tears as she embraced him, burying her face into his shoulder. "I missed you too."

Abel silently waited for a moment, waiting for what he _knew_ would happen – and it did, it always did.

 _My poor baby… This must have been so hard for him – I shouldn't be hiding, I should be with them-_

"You sick," He mumbled softly, pulling away and looking up at her. "Papa said you sick. What wrong?"

She brushed the hair on his head down, and he realized she was _definitely_ sad. "I'll be fine, baby, I just… I…"

 _How do I explain to him that the baby is gone? How do I tell him – or any of them – that there's no baby?_

Abel frowned in confusion. "No baby? Where is it?"

Queenie froze at his words, absolutely stunned. "How…How did you know that?"

"You think it," He explained, and he pointed to her head. "In brain. I can hear it."

"Oh…" Realization dawned over her, and she was crying suddenly. "Oh, Abel…honey, I am so sorry…"

"Where the baby, Mama?" He asked again innocently.

She pulled him back to her chest, letting out an unsteady sigh. "The baby is…is going to heaven, Abe. Do you know about Heaven?"

Abel nodded into her chest. "Mmm-hmm. Angels."

"Well, the b-baby has gone to Heaven…they're an _angel_."

His mother was crying steadily now, her tears dripping down onto her pink pyjamas; Abel wrapped his tiny arms around her, closing his eyes and thinking.

 _It okay, Mama. Baby will be safe. I love you_.

"Yes," She agreed weakly, and her hold on him tightened. "I love you too."

* * *

It had almost become an argument, but in the end she had won out – she wanted to see the children and she wanted to see them _now_. He didn't want to argue really, fearing he'd upset her, and so he had reluctantly agreed.

The children came to visit together that evening after supper, Jacob close behind, and they all seemed somewhat relieved to see her sitting up (even Abel, who had seen her already without the others knowing).

"You're alright, Mama!" Daisy stated quite happily, coming to sit beside Queenie; her enthusiasm dipped after a second, however, as she seemed to realize that something _bad_ had happened all the same. "I've missed you, Mama!"

"I missed Mama more!" Ruth announced, clambering to sit on Queenie's other side and cuddling into her. "I missed you most, Mama!"

Toby didn't smile, seeming to notice that something was still amiss; he did, on the other hand, take Abel's hand and sit at the end of the bed cautiously. "How are you feeling, Ma?"

"Better," Queenie lied – well, it was _half_ a lie really, for she _did_ feel better physically. "I've missed all four of you so much."

Surprisingly, it made her feel slightly better to hold each of them in her arms; they hugged her back eagerly, and she heard them thinking about how relieved they were she was really going to be okay – they had been _worried_ about her, and her heart ached at the thought of them being so miserable without her.

She was still absolutely _heartbroken_ , of course, and it wouldn't disappear anytime soon – but the pain seemed to ebb away just the tiniest bit holding the four of them.

* * *

A few nights later, Queenie was still awake when Jacob entered the room to change; she watched him quietly in the dark, just observing silently.

When he reached to take his pillow off the bed, however, she reached out and touched his arm. "Don't."

Jacob looked surprised. "Oh, no, I…I don't mind, honest…"

"I don't want you sleeping on the couch," She told him firmly. "It ain't comfortable at all. Come on, the bed's more than big enough for us both."

He still looked gob-smacked, if a little anxious, but climbed underneath the covers nonetheless. For a long moment the two of them lay there in bed together, not touching or saying a word; there was complete silence.

After a painfully slow minute, Queenie rolled onto her side and buried her face into her husband's shoulder. "Jacob? Would it be too much to ask if…if you just held me?"

She could tell he was worried – worried of upsetting her with unnecessary physical contact, worried of pushing things too far – but he carefully wrapped an arm around her all the same. She took a moment to just breathe him in, to feel his strong arms holding her close.

"Thank you," She found herself whispering into the dark, closing her eyes. " _Thank you_."

* * *

It was October when Newt and Tina came to visit; all of the children were looking forward to seeing them again, particularly upon learning that they'd be bringing _the case_ with them. Queenie had dressed somewhat modestly that day, still rather uncomfortable but excited all the same – she hadn't seen her sister in over a _year_ , and she had missed her so _much_ that it hurt.

She decided not to mention the miscarriage to them – it wasn't relevant.

It was more than easy to forget, she found, when she was embracing Tina; she could hear her sister's thoughts, a mixed cauldron of joy and misery.

"Teenie! I've missed you _so_ much! I'm we ain't been able to visit but…well, you know how it is with children…"

Tina's smile had been more of a grimace. "Yes, I know. I've missed you too, Queenie."

 _If only I'd had you with me…perhaps all of this baby-trying business wouldn't have seemed so awful_.

Her sister tried to block her out but it was too late; Queenie couldn't help but feel shocked as she pulled away from the hug. "Teenie…"

"Please," Her sister pleaded, eying where their husbands were standing just meters away. "If we have to talk about it, can we talk about it in _private_?"

"Of course," Queenie agreed sympathetically – she knew how that felt. " _Ladies'_ chat."

Once the children had gone down into the case with Newt (Jacob eagerly following after them), Queenie set about making some tea and coffee in the kitchen.

"You've had an _awful_ year, Teenie," She found herself sighing, flicking her wand so that the kettle boiled; another flick caused two mugs to float out of a cupboard to sit on the table. "I wish you'd have told me everything in your letters."

"I'm _sorry_ ," Tina muttered, somewhat sarcastically. "I just didn't think it would be right to mention those kinds of things in a _letter_ – what if someone intercepted one and read it?"

The blonde witch couldn't help but huff at that. "I suppose so…I still wish you had told me."

Once the tea had been made, the two sat at the table opposite each other; Queenie examined her sister with a sympathetic expression, eyes growing sadder with each thought she read.

 _…I don't understand. We've been trying since January and **nothing**. What is taking us so long? Is there something wrong with me? It has to be…all of those pregnancy potions…and then I haven't heard from any of my team in Bulgaria for six months…everything is just getting out of hand…but this baby-trying business – I just don't understand…what am I doing wrong?_

"Oh, Tina…" She murmured, truly upset. "You _have_ had a bad year."

Tina looked down at her mug, desperate to look anywhere but at her sister. "No kidding. It's…it's been difficult, to say the least. We're still trying, but things just don't seem to be working."

Queenie reached over to cover Tina's hand with her own. "Teen, you really shouldn't blame yourself. I know Newt doesn't. And you have three children – three lovely children – so you shouldn't be so hard on yourself."

And he didn't; she had read her British brother-in-law's thoughts as he'd entered the home, and he'd been thinking about it too – though he was blaming himself, not his wife.

"I…I suppose," Tina allowed. "It's just…it's difficult because you and Jacob are having another baby now, and I…I wish that was _us_ so badly."

Queenie's felt the colour drain from her face, her heart sinking into her stomach. "Tina…it's…it's not what you think…"

"No, I know you would have never tried to rub it in," She sighed, shaking her head to herself. "I'm just being bitter…bitter, prickly _Porpentina_ -"

"Tina." Her voice was suddenly weak, as if it weren't even _hers_. "I…It's… We're _not_ having a baby anymore."

 _What on Earth is she talking about? She wouldn't get rid of it, of course not, so what… _Oh__.

"Queenie…I'm _so_ sorry," She whispered, and suddenly her thoughts were entirely focused on _her_ – sympathy, pity, worry. "I'm…really…I…"

"Don't worry," Queenie said softly. "It was a few weeks ago… We'd barely sent the letter off when… Never mind." She looked down at her mug, shoulders sinking as she continued to speak. "Please don't say anything to the children – Jacob and I, we didn't know what to say and…and it's still a rather sensitive subject for him as well. Please don't mention it."

Tina nodded weakly. "I won't," She promised, and she reached to grip her sister's hand in her own. "I'm sorry I wasn't here for you, Queenie, and that you and Jacob had to go through _this_. Are you going to…you know?"

"Try again?" Queenie didn't even wait for a response. "Maybe in a few months, but right now we can't even _think_ of…well."

She could tell what her sister was thinking: that her problems seemed silly and marginal now, that it was far worse to be pregnant and have it ripped away. Tina had always tried to protect her, from the day their parents died, and to see her like _this_ was making her feel sick.

"Don't worry about me, Teenie," Queenie insisted, and she gave a half-hearted smile. "I'm a big girl now – I'll be okay."

Tina squeezed her sister's hand tightly in her own. "I know you will – but I'm your sister: it's my _job_ to worry anyway."

 _Oh, Teenie… I wish you wouldn't worry about me. You have far more important things to think about than me now_.

* * *

It was a full month after the incident when she turned to him and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Jacob froze at the contact, hastily trying to shift away. "Queenie…"

"I know you don't wanna hurt me," She murmured softly. "You _won't_. Please, Jacob…please, just so I know…?"

 _So I know you really love me still – that you don't hate me for losing our baby_.

He swallowed, unsure of how to feel. "You don't want me touching you…you ain't gonna want _that_ , of all things..."

"I do," Queenie insisted truthfully, and she seemed to get slightly teary-eyed. "I do, Jacob… Don't you want me anymore?"

 _Of course I still want her! She has no idea how much, but after what happened…the last thing on her mind would be something like that…_

"Honey," She continued before he could speak, cupping his cheek with her hand. "You _do_ want me…I won't break."

Jacob was still unsure, though he was fully aware that his trousers were much tighter now than they had been before – it had been an entire month, after all. "I…I dunno… Only if you're real sure…"

"I am," She agreed, looking him straight in the eye. "I _want_ you to love me."

 _I always love her – that's never changed_. "I…Fine," He muttered nervously, gently placing a hand on her back. "But the minute you feel like you wanna stop, you let me know and we stop."

She nodded in agreement, leaning in again. "Of course."

Usually their love-making was passionate and fun – that hadn't changed, not even with four children – and they always made sure to enjoy it; but this time was different. This time it was slow and careful, getting to reacquaint themselves with one another; it was more about the gentle touches, the careful caresses, than getting off. It was less sexual than emotional, as odd as it seemed, but in that moment in seemed to make perfect sense.

Jacob couldn't help but think that his wife was still _so_ beautiful – she had always been beautiful to him, of course, and would always be as far as he was concerned. He still considered himself very much the luckiest man alive to be married to her, to have started a family together – what she ever saw in a guy like him, he would never understand.

She seemed somewhat unsure of her body now, but he soon put those fears to rest as he kissed and worshipped every mark, every inch of skin, every plump curve left over from bearing children. She seemed to quiver underneath him with every touch, particularly when he started to lovingly palm at her chest, and it didn't take long until she was begging him to make love to her properly.

He was slow and careful as he pushed in, and for a moment they stayed like that: Queenie was crying silently, tears streaking down her cheeks as she held him inside of her, and he worried if he'd accidentally hurt her or pushed her too far.

She shook her head. "No, honey, no… I just…I love you, that's all."

It seemed silly, in hindsight, to cry over _that_ – but Jacob understood. "I love you too - don't you forget that."

She laughed tearfully. "I won't."

It didn't last particularly long – but it didn't need to. The point wasn't to achieve pleasure but to take comfort in the knowledge that, despite what had happened, they loved each other and nothing would change that. He made sure, all the same, to let her reach the edge first as he continued to touch and squeeze her body, eventually reaching down to rub between her legs while he pressed kisses to her neck. She cried out as she came, clutching him and nearly _sobbing_ as she repeated his name and the words "I love you". It wasn't long before he followed behind, straining above her and groaning before he collapsed on top of her.

It was a few minutes later that Queenie came to, and she noticed that there was something wet against her breasts; it alarmed her when she realized it was her husband _crying_ heavily.

"Jacob…" She asked weakly, cupping his face. "Honey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Jacob denied, pushing himself away. "I'm…I'm fine, really…"

 _I'm real stupid, crying like that…real men don't cry. They don't cry about sex or love, and they definitely don't cry over babies…_

Queenie let out a gasp, pulling him back towards her immediately. "Don't you _dare_ think that!" She whispered furiously. "Of course you can cry… And you can definitely cry in front of _me_!"

"I'm…I'm sorry…"

He seemed to be letting it all out suddenly, and she read it in his thoughts; he hadn't allowed himself to cry over the loss of their baby, not really, instead focusing on keeping the kids safe and on helping _her_. He had neglected to look after himself during that time, and that seemed awfully _wrong_ to her.

She wrapped her arms around Jacob, embracing him as he continued to cry heavily. "That's it, honey…let it out…"

After a few minutes of this – of her comforting her husband – Jacob pulled away once more, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…it's just…"

"You ain't gotta explain to me," Queenie told him quietly. "I know."

There was no more talking between them as she pressed a kiss to his temple and they lay down together; they fell asleep in each other's arms that night, bodies pressed close together, and it suddenly seemed as if the worst had passed.

* * *

 **I was going to end this fic with the discovery of their next baby being on the way but it felt a little out of place to me…**

 **Anyway, I hope this was alright – I'm still unsure of how to write Jacob and Queenie, to be honest! You'd think after 17 viewings of the film plus writing fanfiction I'd know but…obviously not!**

 **And, yes, I will start on the Jakweenie Wedding Night Smut soon ;) We need more Jacob/Queenie fanfics in the fandom, so if you're a writer who has an idea…go ahead!**


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